


Mourning Medication **TEASER**

by RoryRevenant



Series: Mourning Medication [1]
Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety Disorder, Boys' Love, Clairvoyance, Death, Escort Service, Eventual Romance, First Time, Gay, Gay Sex, Haunting, Heterochromia, Hiding Medical Issues, M/M, Mental Institutions, Murder Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Ouija, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Work, Slice of Life, Suicide Attempt, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 10:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryRevenant/pseuds/RoryRevenant
Summary: What decides the difference between a curse and a gift? Claude Moreau, a patient of Seaglass Psychiatric hospital, is tormented by the voices and visions of past lives. A new patient with fresh wounds and a charming face provides a reprieve from the sickness, but at a cost. Just how well can deception and manipulation mask itself? And how willing does someone have to be to heed the warnings of the dead?





	Mourning Medication **TEASER**

**Author's Note:**

> **This is only a snippet of a much larger project. I wanted to show some of the story's writing style and hopefully gain some interest in my work. Regardless, I plan to start posting the full "Mourning Medication" once I've completed around 75% of it. Enjoy a little slice of life fluff**

Nothing could beat the peacefulness of a small town’s “nightlife”. Rain peppered the front window of the late-night ramen shop, distorting the string lights on the shrubbery and trees along the street. A few girls in long sleeve shirts and leggings ran by with clutches held over their heads. The weather outside made the restaurant even more cozy than intended. I wanted to sit here all night.  
“Hey, eat your food. It has to be cooled off by now.”  
I looked at Rory from the corner of my eye and turned my head to my steaming bowl. “It’s still sort of hot.”  
“Are you waiting for it to get cold? We’ll be here all night,” he laughed.  
I took a pair of chopsticks from my napkin and swirled the noodles through the broth. Herbs and pieces of an egg lapped around the bowl. I picked out a white flower-shaped ingredient. “What are these?”  
Rory held up his own spiraled piece. “It’s a narutomaki. Kind of like imitation crab meat. You’ll like it.”  
I bit a corner off and processed the new flavor. It was mild and soft in texture. “I love it,” I praised, taking a larger bite. Rory dropped his own in my bowl. “All yours.”  
“I don’t want to take your food.”  
“Small price to pay for your cute reactions.”  
My face screwed up in a defiant grimace. “I’m not cute.” He’d catch me off guard with flirtatious comments at the worst times.  
“I mean it in a child-like way.”  
“I’m not a child either.”  
“Claude,” he commanded, demanding my full attention. “I mean it’s as if this is your first time experiencing life as an adult. You’ve been tucked away in a psychiatric bubble for half a year; You’re burning away your peak years.”  
He struck something in me that had a bitter sensation attached. I resented my parent’s choice to institutionalize me. I deserved it after what I did, but not for what I have. I could have taken an antidepressant and called it a day.  
“I’m aware. I’m just trying to savor the time I have left. Someone is going to find out we’re-”  
“No they won’t,” he interrupted, slurping broth from a flat spoon. “I told you I took care of it. We have another 2 hours.” He clicked his phone’s home button to validate that 9:05 was still early. My anxiety still released butterflies in my gut. “I don’t know what would happen to me if I’m caught.”  
He rested his head on his hand and looked up at me with those fucking eyes. I can’t stand how they make my bones feel. It’s as if my skeleton was replaced with straw. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”  
I grabbed my bowl and greedily attempted to hide my face while drinking the broth. What kind of voodoo shit does this man do? I thought. Any other friend would have said that in a less salacious way.  
“Fine,” I managed. “You take the blame then.”  
He worked noodles into his mouth and rolled his eyes defiantly. “You need to relax.”  
I tried to stay calm, regardless of my insubordination. I shifted my legs underneath me and sat with them crossed. The restaurant was starting to fill up, college kids coming through the door with a wafting scent of marijuana following shortly behind a few boys.  
“Well that’s a familiar smell,” Rory said with a small smirk. “Ever smoke pot? It could help you with your… uneasiness.”  
I shook my head. I was never put in a social situation with it. “I’m not that cool.”  
He combed his smokey cherry hair back with his fingers and pouted his lips playfully. “Lucky you’re with such a cool guy.” He pulled a lighter from his pocket and waved it at me. I kept alternating my attention between his delicate pale expression and the black Bic in his hand. I felt like a middle schooler hanging out with the seniors. I chewed my remaining noodles and chuffed in amusement. “How did we go from experiencing new food to experimenting with recreational drugs?”  
“Oh please, you stuff bars in your pencil case.”  
Xanax in a mental institution is a little different,” I replied.  
He pushed himself down the booth seat and grabbed his hoodie. “Come on.” I sipped my water and looked up at him. “Don’t we have to pay?”  
He shook his head again and motioned for me to hurry. “Paid upfront. This isn’t like a traditional restaurant, more like a fancy takeout. Now come on.”  
I stubbornly shimmied from my repose and got up. He held his sweater open for me. “It’s cold out.”  
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t make me look gay, just give me the sweater,” I gently yanked it from his grasp and threw it on casually. I knew it came off as rude, but I couldn’t tell what he was trying to do anymore. I watched him manipulate people, dance with them in a flirtatious circle till they unlock doors and break rules for him. He made my head swim and he was well aware. “Where are we going next?”  
He led the way out the door and down the soaked front steps. Light glistened off the road like fresh paint. “Rory,” I called, watching him stride down the sidewalk. “What are we doing?”  
He hit his key fob a few times till the Charger’s brake lights flashed to life with each alarm chirp. He turned to face me with a devilish smile. “I have a joint, I’m getting you high on the beach.”  
“You’re what,” I muttered. He was already climbing into the car and starting it. I wasn’t in a position to fight him. I stepped cautiously down the steps as a few more people passed me, wrapping the sweater tight to my body like a safety net as my space was temporarily invaded. I nuzzled into the collar as I picked up my pace towards the car. His clothes were imbibed with his scent. I wrapped it a little tighter.


End file.
